Of Fangs, Eyes, and Fire
by LilliySilverback
Summary: If Harry thought defeating the Basilisk was the end of it he was very, very wrong. Just as he was to raise the Basilisk fang to destroy the gloating memory of Tom Riddle forever a flash of magnificent light blinded them both. And thus their adventure in Westeros begins. Set before the beginning of Game of Thrones, and during the Chamber of Secrets. HEAVY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

 **Warning!:** Living!Horcrux!Tom!, Smart!Harry!, Obviously AU!

 **Pairings:** _undecided at this time_

 **NON-Pairings (under no circumstance will these characters be a couple):** Tom x Harry (sorry, Tom isn't the type to marry for love)

* * *

 **Chapter 1: What Once Was**

His head ached something fierce and his vision swam of black and white blurs. This was it, this was to be the death of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived to Not Even Reach Thirteen. To say he had lived a good life would have been a lie. In fact, if he was able he would hex the Dursleys all the way across Hadrian's Wall and back before he ever willingly stepped foot into that house again. But the Weasleys were good to him, Merlin he hoped Ginny made it. She may have been a bit creepy but maybe that's just what eleven-year-old girls were like. She deserved to live a happy life surrounded by her family.

Family. Would there even be anyone to mourn him? Ron and Hermione barely knew him, but they had risked their lives together and that created a special bond of sorts, like brothers (and sister) in arms. Hagrid would miss him, he was sure of it. The Dursleys would probably celebrate, after all, he would no longer be the stain upon their house.

The darkness was overcoming him now, for some reason he thought he should feel cold, but he was pleasantly warm. As if he had been laid in a bath of perfectly warm water. He heard someone speak, but it was muffled as if there was cotton in his ears. He could feel the venom working its way through his veins, he could feel the dead limbs it left behind. It looked like he didn't have it in him after all. No matter what happened in first year, Harry was no killer. As it was, Harry accepted the Basilisk venom slowly burning through his veins, a numbness quickly following in its wake.

Then there was fire. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, as the time Petunia pressed his hand onto the stovetop when he was four had taught him otherwise, but a slow burning that chased away the cold that followed the venom. He could feel his limbs moving again, his eyes burned, and his heart hammered away in his chest. This isn't what dying was meant to feel like. He knew what dying was meant to feel like, or at least he wanted to liken it to all those times when Vernon had beaten him so black and blue that Petunia wasn't sure he'd live through the night. Even the fire from his bruised ribs healing unnaturally fast was nothing like this fire. This fire was comforting and soothing all at once.

Harry felt himself float pleasantly in the misty haze of warmth, drifting in and out of the deep blackness until something poked his cheek. Suddenly all sensations came back to him at once, causing him to gasp harshly as too much oxygen rushed back into his lungs. Cold, it was so cold. Yet it was warm as well. White everywhere, and a dark outline across from him. He blinked slowly and soon enough the vision of Tom Riddle just as he was when all this started stared back at him.

The older boy/ Memory or whatever glared once he realized the younger child was watching him, then he scoffed and pointedly stared at the cave wall. How odd, when had they gotten into a cave? Was this another part of the Chamber of Secrets? Why wasn't Tom trying to kill him? His head was spinning with all the questions and he let out a small huff at the pain. His uncle had taught him well not to make unnecessary sounds.

At his huff Tom's head whipped back around, bewilder, but Harry could care less. The twelve-year-old tried to push himself into a sitting position against the wall, but his body was too stiff and it ached something fierce to move at that time. He knew Tom was studying him for some reason, and he resolved to show no further weakness to his strangely acting enemy. Once he finally got himself into a semi-decent position Harry pushed the throbbing sensation in his body to the back of his mind and forced himself to further study his surroundings.

The cave they were in appeared fairly shallow just over three meters (or ten feet) deep. Harry and Tom were so close to the cave's inner wall that Harry could shift his weight and lean on two walls. Surprisingly the cave was very dry, not even the scent of mineral filled drain water filled the air. It tasted stale on Harry's tongue actually, only the freezing temperatures keeping the boy from gagging. As he and Tom sat on opposite sides of the cave, Harry noticed if they really wanted to they could each stretch out their legs and touch the other just barely. It was a narrow and shallow cave which gave Harry misty breath each time he exhaled. He could see a moving wall of white at one end. It looked like snow, and Harry felt his nose scrunch up at this revelation that wherever they were there was a blizzard going on. But who was he to say what was and wasn't possible, after all, not even a few seconds ago he had awoken from surviving the most deadly venom in the world after having been bitten by a freaking Basilisk and having defeated said animal with a decorative blade in a secret chamber beneath a school of magic. Screw logic, he would just blame it all on magic and move on.

A warm trill of amusement from Harry's left (and how did he know it was amusement?) brought the scrawny twelve-year-old's attention to the large red bird by his side. The flaming poultry was none other than Fawkes the Phoenix, but what in the name of Merlin's balls was he doing here? Harry opened his mouth to ask such a question and found his throat much too dry to utter a single syllable, any attempts he made felt as if he had swallowed sandpaper. Fawkes trilled in further amusement before squawking at Tom with a show of his wings. The teen-ghost glared at the bird harshly before summoning a goblet of water (with Harry's wand he duly noted) and handed it to the young lad in question.

Harry greedily drank and muttered a thank you as best he could. Fawkes hobbled closer to the mismatched pair and began preening the younger boy's hair, making it lay flat as best as he could. Every bone is Harry's body ached something fierce, and his muscles throbbed painfully. It was not something he was unable to deal with, having handled worse in the care of his 'oh so loving' relatives. Still, he didn't think hunkering down in a shallow cave in the middle of a blizzard was going to help his fever either.

Tom's eyes narrowed minutely at the young boy sitting across from him. In his memory form, and not yet fully fleshed out, Tom was cold and felt his body twinge from magical exhaustion. He knew the boy to be in worse shape, yet Potter hadn't so much as flinched. The second year hadn't bothered to show a single sign of discomfort other than his need for water initially. A clenching of his jaw was the forever fifteen-year-old's only sign of frustration. How was it this waif of a boy could handle pain and discomfort better than he who had survived the Second World War?

Harry sighed softly and leaned more heavily against the wall, allowing it to take all his weight. Whatever was going on he was sure he'd be fine so long as he had Fawkes. He knew the bird was smarter than it appeared, and that Tom couldn't dare risk the magical creature's ire, not when he could very well be their only way of getting back.

"Where are we?" Harry's voice was hardly a raspy whisper but getting better at least. Olive green eyes, set in an angular face, glared sharply at the smaller male, hidden only by midnight black curls.

"How would I know? It's your bloody fault we're here. You shouldn't have interfered, but of course, the self-important Potter must save the day." Harry grimaced at Tom's tone and stuck his tongue out oh so maturely.

"You sound like Snape. I bet the two of you would be the best of friends. Both of you are too stupid to realize of course I'd try to help my best mate's little sister. If you'd chosen someone like Lockhart I would've left you to it." Harry haughtily crossed his arms over his chest and raised his nose in the air in a perfect likeness to Malfoy (on purpose of course, because he knew how annoying it was to be on the other end of such a look).

"You, the Great Harry Potter, would have allowed me to kill someone?" The future Dark Lord nearly snarled, baring his teeth in a very uncouth manner. Harry fidgeted nervously beneath the slowly darkening gaze, his insides shuttering in fear for his life. Even with Fawkes to protect him, Tom still had his wand.

"Well, if it was someone like Lockhart... yeah. All he's ever done is steal other people's life's work and claim it was his. He even planned to let you kill Ginny! An innocent first year! If he's not a bad guy than I don't know who is!" Harry shrugged as if to say it was none of his business, or perhaps that he just didn't care. As far as he was concerned the world was better off with one less Lockhart running around.

Harry knew very well of the injustice of the world, no matter what anyone else said. When the younger wizard glanced up again it was to spot Tom staring at him with his jaw unhinged in an almost comical manner. He knew he wasn't what the older boy was expecting, but Harry also knew that Tom got almost all of his information from fan-girl Ginny Weasley. What an unreliable source of intel. Tom probably tried to separate Ginny's bias from reality, but once Tom learned of Voldemort's demise at the Potter's hand Harry had no doubt that intel became bias in a different way.

The younger boy sighed as he felt himself slipping off into the bliss-filled warmth again. He wondered briefly where the warmth came from, but considering the bird beside him was the living symbol of _fire_ and _rebirth_ he figured that a silly question to ponder. He couldn't begin to imagine how they managed to appear in this little cave in the middle of a blizzard, but he supposed magic was to blame for that too. Perhaps he should've been more concerned, for he would never see Hogwarts again, but he couldn't find it within himself to care. Tom seemed to sense how little concern he felt, somehow.

"Shouldn't you be raving? Hollering? Demanding I find you a way to return? First, you admit you'd allow me to kill a man so long as it's one you don't like, and now you show no concern for your own safety. You're the strangest Gryffindor I've ever met." With that last bit, the almost fully restored spirit of a fifteen-year-old crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the twelve-year-old across from him. Harry gave a tired smile and a huff that might be mistaken for a laugh if one was feeling generous, which Tom certainly was not.

"It's not that I'm not concerned for my safety, but more like Fawkes won't allow you to harm me. And honestly, what do I have to return to? A school that'll turn on me at a whisper? Two friends, maybe three on a good day? Far as I'm concerned anything beats going back to the Dursleys." A sharp stab of insecurity infiltrated Harry's chest, even though he knew his words to be true. As if to confirm what he said, Fawkes gave a loud trill and began nuzzling the young boy's hair.

"Your relatives? The Wizarding world is under the impression you're being pampered by the lowly Muggles every waking moment." It was clear to the younger boy that Tom would have sneered if he thought the look could be dignified. As it was the near-immortal boy's jaw clenched and his olive green eyes were shadowed by his hair.

"Far from it!" Harry gave a weak laugh that sapped the energy right out of him. "I'm forced to live with Magic–hating Muggles, and no matter how much I begged Dumbledore just keeps sending me back. I even offered to pay him with the Potter accounts! He wouldn't hear it." Harry neglected to mention just how much he had offered and the absolutely less than fair response he was given in return.

Tom sat stone still across from the small boy, and with the seed already planted, it was all too easy to see how the small boy was _too small_. He was more the size of an eight-year-old than a twelve-year-old, and there was no baby fat on his cheeks. Harry's face was drawn, and in their sparse light looked gaunt even and that was after two terms at Hogwarts. Even during the war Tom always had something to eat, sure it wasn't ever enough to fill him up but he never went completely without. The thought that this small boy had suffered more than he had was _unthinkable_ , yet he couldn't ignore the evidence before him.

"I-I'm sorry-" Tom nearly cut himself off once he realized the words were coming from his own throat. Harry scoffed and glared across the short way.

"I don't need your pity."

"No," Tom urged, somewhat angered at Harry's easy dismissal of his difficult apology. "I'm sorry I took away your family. I don't know why I did, and I won't pretend that I do. But I'm sorry that my actions caused you to suffer." Even worse than he himself did. "This is what I was fighting against! I want all magical children, Muggleborns included, to be raised in an all-magical home. Muggles are idiotic hateful creatures. The true scum of the earth." That last bit was muttered nearly under his breath and startled a laugh from the drowsy twelve-year-old.

"I'm sorry you failed to kill me. Everyone wants to give me the credit, but my mum was the brightest witch of her generation. The Great Dark Lord Voldemort was murdered by a mudblood in retribution for the attempted murder of her son. I bet my mum had some fail-safe or something set up in the nursery as a last resort." It was Tom who released an unexpected sigh before Harry finally drifted off into the blackness again, a small smile adorning his lips. Perhaps Tom wasn't such a bad guy after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

 **Warning!:** Living!Horcrux!Tom!, Smart!Harry!, Obviously AU!

 **Pairings:** _undecided at this time_

 **NON-Pairings (under no circumstance will these characters be a couple):** Tom x Harry

* * *

 **Chapter 2:** **Ties of Blood**

There was no telling what time it was when Harry finally returned to the world of the living again. In his hazy-waking state, Harry allowed his last encounter with the young Dark Lord wash over him. Tom wasn't as cold and cruel as Harry had imagined him to be, but that might be a combination of shock, horror, and guilt in the older teen. It was funny, really, how easily they could get on so long as they weren't trying to kill each other. The younger male snorted at this thought before giving a wry smile. Startling his companion who thought him still asleep.

When Harry finally opened his eyes it was to see that Tom had raised his brow in a very familiar manner that had Harry falling into a delirious fit of giggles. He was still quite tired and weak even after his impromptu healing and subsequent nap.

"Snape does that! He must've learned it from you. Oh, Merlin! The terrible Severus Snape mimicking the Dark Lord's facial expressions in a mirror!" The image was too much and Harry couldn't get enough oxygen in his lungs to stave off the laughter. Fawkes swatted him with a powerful wing while Tom just stared bewilder, amusement seeping into his features, almost casting him in a softer light. Harry spluttered for a moment before he regained his breath and just continued to lay there on his side where he had fallen.

After a few moments that could've well passed into hours, Harry took on a somber mood and slowly sat up, his bruised emerald eyes meeting the shadowed olive across from him. "I don't hate you, Tom." His declaration startling the older boy. "My hate is reserved for the Dursley's." Tom nodded his acknowledgment and Harry continued, "Am I mad you killed my only family? Hell yeah, but you didn't plan for me to end up with those stupid muggles." It was true, as much as Harry _wanted_ to hate Tom he just couldn't. He just didn't have it in him.

"I-" Tom couldn't find the words to describe the odd feeling forming in his chest, it was warm and light and it scared him. It was almost as if a heavyweight he hadn't even known he'd been carrying had been lifted from his shoulders. It scared him how a little boy's words could affect him so much, so he screwed up his face and darkened his features as much as he could and still resemble a pureblood. "Are you sure you're a twelve-year-old? You sound much too jaded for someone your age." That wasn't what he meant to say, but the insult he had planned sat much too heavy on his tongue.

Harry laughed and the warmth inside his chest grew. What was this _elation_ he was feeling? It didn't make any sense! Was he really so bloody grateful that this child who had every reason in the world to hate him didn't? But why? Just because Harry didn't hate him didn't mean that others could grow to care for him. Dammit, all! He thought he had outgrown these feelings after he had murdered his father and framed his uncle! Surely these desires couldn't be so deeply rooted within him?

"You're the odd one, Tom." Harry gave a lopsided grin, his fingers reaching out to brush against Fawkes' feathers. The action brought a surge of warmth to his body and he thanked the bird by gently rubbing his chest. "You know, I was almost a Slytherin." This admission had Tom's darkened eyes widening again, "Malfoy was such a spoiled twat though, I couldn't bear the thought of sharing a dorm with him for seven years. He reminded me too much of my cousin, Dudley." It was Tom's turn to snort before he realized what the child had said.

"The Great Harry Potter a Slytherin?" This time Harry snorted, his head lolling back to hit the wall. He just felt so weak, but here he was bonding with Tom, bonding with the memory of the man who had murdered his parents. He didn't want to blame Tom for it though, that just felt wrong. Voldemort was the bad guy. Tom still had a chance to be somebody good, especially since they were now two separate people.

"I know, but at the time I was just Harry." The twelve-year-old sighed in a manner much too old for his short years. "Still am, really. I never cared for all this fame." Here his face screwed up as if trying to solve some difficult puzzle. "Why would they think I want a moniker that reminds me I'm an orphan?" Harry could see Tom shift uneasily at that term.

"The people of Britain, specifically the Light, have always been merely sheeple." Here Tom refused to look the younger boy in the eye as he made his admittance, "You aren't the only orphan who was hailed only to be abused. Though I must admit mine wasn't on so grand a scale as your own. Dumbledore never quite liked me. He learned of my ability to speak to snakes and thought me evil incarnate." Harry wanted to shout, to rave that Dumbledore wasn't like that. He wouldn't treat a child like that. Still, hesitation clogged his throat. Hadn't Dumbledore tried to distance himself when he learned that Harry could speak to snakes? He did nothing to discourage the rumors or the attacks.

Harry was under no delusion Dumbledore could've stopped Tom, otherwise, the man would've, right? No, he meant the upper students attacking Harry under the misguided illusion they could stop the petrifications if they 'put an end' to him. Needless to say, that didn't work. It was only when Snape made a derisive comment about Harry not being smart enough to be the Heir that the bullying stopped. Harry hated how grateful he felt to his most loathsome professor after that.

"Yeah, Dumbledore's no saint. Still, I thought my father was a pureblood, isn't that supposed to mean I have lots of family hiding out somewhere? How come my only living relatives are bloody Muggles?" This is what really didn't make any sense to Harry. Arthur Weasley explained what he could about the Potter family. What he taught Harry only caused more questions to arise. Who were Harry's godparents? Why didn't they get custody? It all made Harry's head begin to pound in time with his heart, a throbbing echoing inside his head to a strange rhythm only he could hear.

 _" **Not alone, hatchling. The red-eyed-one is one of your nestlings. Peverells you both are.**_ " A low musical lilt filled the air and turned to words inside Harry's head. The translation magic agitated the boy's headache, and he swung his head around to identify the speaker. But there was only himself, Tom, and Fawkes within the small cave.

"Did you hear that?" Tom raised an amused brow at Harry. The younger quickly scowled at the other, this was not funny!

"Yes, I heard the bloody bird sing, what of it?" Tom was cautious now. He'd clearly angered the boy, though he knew not how. He had just begun to win the boy's favor, though he was never truly aiming for it, he was reluctant to lose it all the same. There was a sense of kinship arising between them.

"But did you hear what he _said_?" Tom's face froze and Harry could see the older boy's mind working a million miles a second behind his eyes. It was at this moment that Harry realized that no, Tom had not understood Fawkes.

"You mean to tell me you can understand him?" Harry gave a shaky nod. It was bad enough he could understand snakes, but now flaming birds too? He was a freak among freaks. No, he couldn't think like that. That was his Muggle upbringing talking. Magical abilities were praised back in the Wizarding World. Ron had said as much.

 _" **Of course hatchling hears my song! I have claimed him, and he is mine!** "_ Fawkes trilled angrily and unraveled his wings in a show of dominance over the two foolish hatchlings. Harry flinched back from the pissed off bird, not quite able to stop the reaction. It was something Tom noticed immediately, and Harry tightened his jaw before he allowed himself to translate the first message, ignoring his humiliation as it simmered beneath his skin.

"Fawkes says I'm his hatchling. He also says the 'red-eyed-one' and I are both Peverell nestlings, whatever that means. Cousins, maybe?" Tom just stared mutely at the younger male as his brain tried to process the words coming from the boy's chapped lips. Harry's cheeks took on a red hue that had little to do with the cold. It appeared he had given the older boy one too many shocks because at this point Tom seemed incapable of verbal responses.

 _" **Red hatchling is sick, but tears not work. Green hatchling needs food. Will return.** " _In a brilliant flash of flames, Fawkes was gone and Harry was alone with a slightly less murderous version of the dark lord. He knew he should be panicking, but maybe he was in shock. All Harry felt was cold acceptance, same as he had felt many times in his short life.

Tom's lead-like gaze lingered on the spot where the phoenix once was, the cold olive orbs observing the lingering scorch mark. "He said the 'red hatchling' was sick, something about tears, and that he'll be back with food. I assume I'm the green hatchling, which makes you the red." Tom's head snapped up at that, his brow scrunch in confusion and irritation.

"Pray tell, why would the lion be green and the snake red?" Harry rolled his eyes at the question until he realized something with a bolt. _Tom's_ eyes were green, much like his own. It was _Voldemort's_ eyes that were red. Fawkes and Harry might know this, but Tom didn't. Tom didn't know what he'd become.

"It's our eyes." Tom's irritation and confusion become more evident when Harry hesitated. "When you become Voldemort -or became rather- your eyes turned red. They were also slit like a snake's or a cat's."

"That's impossible! Eyes don't just change!" The exclamation was little more than a whisper, and Harry could barely hear it had it not been for the rather impressive acoustics of the small cave.

"I saw it myself when you possessed Quirrell. You wanted to look me in the eyes before you killed me. Obsessed, crazed, red, snake-like eyes." Tom had gone pale and considering he was still a memory he matched the snow outside. Harry could easily see his shock, though the younger couldn't quite understand it. Weird things happened all the time in the magical world, how was a change in eye color so significant?

"That means something went wrong, but how? I was so careful! The ritual was perfect!" The older boy was muttering to himself, and Harry was quite sure Tom hadn't even realized he had spoken out loud. It was in that moment that Harry was reminded that Tom was merely a fifteen, almost sixteen, year old boy. He wasn't even much older than himself. They weren't so different, especially since this was the Tom before he really became Voldemort.

"I don't know what you're freaking out about, but is it really even important?" Harry hadn't meant to make it sound so much like a taunt, but there it was. Tom's head snapped up again -when had he dropped it?- only to glare at Harry.

"I do not _freak out_."

"Sure could've fooled me. Doesn't matter. Whatever happened to make your eyes turn red doesn't matter because it won't happen. Not here. You've already done it, and you don't need to do it again. What you need to do is help me come up with a plan to keep us both alive." Man, it felt weird to be the voice of reason. He sounded just like Hermione, but maybe that's what he needed to get through to Tom before he _really_ started freaking out.

"Us? You do realize I'm not really alive, right?" Oh, that's right. Harry kept forgetting that tidbit. Tom was just so tangent he kept forgetting the boy wasn't fully there, yet. Harry did realize he would need Tom's help if he was going to stay alive though. He had no idea where they were and Tom was his only ally (although not exactly a trusted one at this point) besides a mythical creature whom most normal people would freak out about if they saw it. Harry sighed as he made his decision.

"Yet." Olive eyes narrowed with suspicion before Tom sat a bit straighter, attempting to use his added height to intimidate the smaller boy.

"What do you mean 'yet'?" Emerald orbs glared across the small confined space, teeth clenched tightly to prevent them from clicking together, the cold was really starting to set in now that Fawkes had gone off to Merlin only knew where.

"Exactly th-that. You're sssurvival is part of th-the plan t-too. Look, I know you're sssmarter th-than me. And-d I'm bett-tter at adapting th-than you. You th-think long-term plans, I'm good at ssspontaneousss. We'd work well t-together, ssso long asss we're not-t trying t-to kill each other." It was risky at best, but this is what Harry excelled at. This was his skill, persuasion and spontaneous plans that only ever worked by the skin of his teeth. But he was a survivor, they both were. If the Dursley's couldn't kill Harry he'd be damned if he let a blizzard do the trick.

"You want to work together, with your parents' killer?" Tom's voice was soft but filled with astonishment. This young boy, who looked even younger still and yet acted much older than he was, had to be insane. Why would anyone want to put themselves in that position? Then again, even though Tom knew after a while he could survive on his own, Harry most likely wouldn't last the winter with him shaking like a leaf as he was. Fawkes hadn't even been gone an hour yet Harry had gone pale and was quickly showing signs of hypothermia. Tom was immune thanks to his not-living status. Harry genuinely needed Tom to survive, and the boy realized this. He was even willing to admit it!

"Asss far asss I sssee it, I can't-t blame you for sssomething you haven't-t done yet-t. Your future ssself, Voldemort-t, and your current self, T-tom, are t-two different p-people. I will do what-t is necssessssary to sssurvive."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

 **Warning!:** Living!Horcrux!Tom!, Smart!Harry!, Obviously AU!

 **Pairings:** _undecided at this time_

 **NON-Pairings (under no circumstance will these characters be a couple):** Tom x Harry, _others to be announced_

 **A/N:** For the brazen fan who says Tom and Harry are completely out of character. I am not forgetting Tom's dark side. He's a Slytherin, like myself, he's good at acting and knows when to hold his cards close to his chest and recognizes Harry's value for what it is. But at this point, he is still a FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD. He is not all-knowing. As cunning as he may be, he's still just a child that is prone to emotional responses as well as calculated ones. In regards to Harry, _have you not read my warning?!_ This Harry is as much Slytherin as he is Gryffindor. He too knows when to admit defeat, especially when it will benefit him later on. Harry is even more so ruled by emotions and is desperate for a family of some type. He is also under no delusion that Tom won't kill him when he is no longer useful. Harry also has little to no value of self-worth. As seen by him constantly sacrificing himself left and right throughout the series. Tom and Harry won't magically become buddy-buddy, but even Tom has a heart. Also, I'm basing Tom's muggle experience off of the newest adaptation of Peter Pan, and since Harry grew up in an actively abusive home and shows clear signs of abuse and malnourishment, _my Harry has suffered more!_ **-End Rant-**

* * *

 **Chapter 3:** **In the Name**

The passage of Time was a mix of slow somber moments and bursts of color and laughter after the two boys made peace. While Tom was naturally a more calm and cool personality (with the more than occasional bursts of rage) he found himself quickly getting sucked into the powerful and brilliant aura that surrounded the younger wizard.

Each night Harry would allow Tom to leech a small amount of Magic away just before he'd fall asleep. Fawkes would keep an eye over the Magical transfusion and would give a harsh cry if Tom tried to take more than allowed. The near-immortal boy quickly learned the while Phoenix tears healed, Phoenix flames hurt.

The boys' days were filled with Tom quizzing Harry on all he'd learned over his first two years at Hogwarts (limited to practical knowledge only) and even taught him a few new spells. Harry was a quick study, but Tom had a near-perfect memory and together the pair were a force to be reckoned with.

Fawkes returned the first night with the carcass of a young stag he most likely killed, and that was only considering the poor animal appeared to have met death via fireball. Tom summoned a knife as Harry asked and the younger boy did his best to skin and gut the animal. Tom used minor Transfiguration to turn the charred skin into a leather mat for the young boy to sleep on, a show of kindness that did not go unnoticed by Harry.

Even though Tom had no need for food Harry insisted he ate, so the two humans enjoyed roasted deer meat while their avian companion enjoyed the 'leftovers'. Leftovers which consisted of organs most humans would hurl at the sight of.

Over the course of a few weeks, the odd trio came upon a routine. Fawkes would hunt down both information and food, ranging from deer to rabbits, in the day. At night, the trusted Phoenix would oversee the Magical transfusions, though it appeared Tom had learned his lesson after the first time. Tom would read over all the information gathered, trying to make heads and tails of it, and force Harry to read anything he deemed important. He also continued his Magic lessons with the boy, figuring it would be better to have a mostly trained wizard by his side.

Harry began his own Magical studies. With Tom maintaining control of his wand (the teen was surprised to discover their wands were actually brother's a that's why it was so easy to use), Harry decided he needed another way to use Magic instead of the two passing the wand back and forth. His idea was easier in hindsight, and actually took a lot of practice with the wand in question, but was well worth it in the long run. He began by attempting to perform the spells without their incantations and had success so long as he pictured the spell's effects in his mind. It was when he tried to cast a spell with just a flick of the wand that he hit a stone wall.

"You should try it with the incantation first," Tom commented idly while pouring over the map's Fawkes had managed to gather. The fifteen-year-old was now nearly completely alive, another week or two of transfusions and he would be fully formed again.

"Here goes, _lumos_!" A brilliant ball of yellow light burst into being above Tom's head, illuminating the map's far better than the fire in the middle of the cave.

"Hold it!" The older boy nearly shouted, his fingers splayed carefully over the aged parchment beneath his touch. The boys had already worked out they were in the northern territory by the weather, but Fawkes had described a strange structure even farther north than them to Harry after one of his hunts. Tom was pretty sure that structure was what the map detailed as the 'Fist of the First Men'.

If he was right, which he was sure of considering the increasing distances south Fawkes made on each hunt, they were in dangerous territory. The boys had already agreed they needed to make their way south to the great wall their resident Magical creature had described. According to the avian, there was plentiful food and sunlight on the other side, just what they needed. The problem was getting there.

It was on the eve of the eighth week when the trio decided to embark on their journey south. According to Fawkes if they followed the river they would reach a small human settlement about half a day's walk out. Tom held worry, not over his own life but for the small boy who had become his charge. It angered him that Harry had managed to worm his way into the Slytherin's heart, but perhaps the knowledge that they were cousins (however far down the line) and kin helped that anger ebb.

Tom transfigured their clothing into appropriate deep winter robes (both wearing a light grey color so as not to be spotted by any wolves or such) and their small collection of deerskin into large, warm, leather cloaks. At this point, Tom had begun and to feel the cold and suffer from hunger, but to go without would not kill him. Due to this, Fawkes remained on Harry's shoulder or in his cloak to keep the small child warm on their journey. The red avian often taking off to survey the land ahead before returning and relaying the information to his chosen human.

The sun had just begun to set when Harry and Tom came across the small yet crowded settlement. It was little more than mud huts with straw for roofs, but it beat the cramped cave the boys had stayed in for over two months.

Fawkes entered the main hut in a burst of brilliant flame, startling the humans and nearly getting himself skewered in the process. Harry fought his instincts to rush in after the Phoenix, Tom's hand on his shoulder as they crouched behind a thicket greatly helping his endeavor. It was strange, really, how quickly they had started to trust each other. Harry supposed that's just what happened when you put your life in another's hands. He felt he could trust Tom, for some reason he just couldn't seem to understand. Maybe it was in the way that the older boy had managed to show more kindness in a single sitting than Harry's relatives had his entire life. Still, he had no doubts Tom would find a way to be rid of him if the need arose. The older wizard was still a Slytherin after all.

After a few moments, in which Fawkes seemed to commandeer a shed on the edge of the property, Harry and Tom came out of hiding. All around the young boys were women of various ages, some old enough to be mothers, but most as young as Harry himself. The only man was angrily waving an ax at Fawkes, which caused a fire to burn in Harry's belly that he forced himself to ignore. When the two boys finally came out of hiding the grown man rounded on them and began spewing insults and threats.

"How rude. All we want is shelter and directions to the next closest settlement and this man acts as if we stole something." It must've startled the man to hear such language coming from a boy who appeared no older than eight, perhaps Harry was allowing Tom to influence him too much.

"State yer name, lads, and business! 'Less aye string yah up and feed yer guts to ma hogs." The man ordered in a gravel-like voice that matched his rugged and worn appearance.

"It's custom to offer your own name before demanding of others." The older boy cut in sharply, standing slightly in front of the younger, "However, I am Tom and this is my younger cousin Harry. We're travelers who've managed to strand ourselves in lands unknown." Harry refused to allow his surprise at Tom's declaration appear on his face, nor his surprise at the protective act of possession. The fact he used their real first names was of no consequence, considering they were fairly common names as far as they both were concerned.

"Name's Craster. This is my land, my wives, you've trespassed here."

"Without intention! We merely seek shelter from the storm that's blowing in before we make our way further south." Harry attempted to step forward more, pulling his leather hood down so he could glare at the old man with his unnaturally bright green eyes, but Tom was still using his own body to block the smaller boy from view. Even with only his eyes visible, Harry made a striking vision. Ron had mentioned once how disturbing it was when Harry did that. Craster shifted, clearly unsettled by the almost glowing emerald orbs, but still sneered down at the boy.

"Suppose you'll be wanting food, water, and bedding too!" Several more of the older woman began crowding behind their husband at this declaration. Fawkes let out a sharp note of warning that said quite clearly _back off_. Tom nodded to the bird in thanks before stepping back and allowing Harry to handle the situation. If the child was so adamant, he was good at adapting then he would have to prove it _._

"We can gather food and water for ourselves. Besides so long as it's not snow we'd be sleeping on our cloaks will be adequate." Craster's face darkened at the challenge, but he relented when he spotted the shed the weird bird had perched itself on. It was the birthing shed, but none of his wives were far enough along to have need of it just yet.

"Yer bird has the shed, if yah so much as look at me wives funny, if yah take anythin', I'll kill yeah mahself." He turned sharply on his heel and marched back into his own much larger shelter. Harry nodded to the retreating figure and went on to inspect the shed Fawkes had already claimed. It wasn't too shabby, but it certainly wasn't Hogwarts or even the Leaky Cauldron for that matter. It also seemed to be the only structure made of actual wood as far as the boys could see.

Tom grimaced at the obvious filth before extracting Harry's wand from his cloak and set about to make repairs. The wood of the walls was transfigured to be more sturdy and fill in any holes. The packed in dirt floor became hard stone. All filth was cast out and a small fire was erected in the center of the floor. What was once a homemade bed sat broken in the corner until Tom turned it into a comfortable mat that encircled the pit of flames. The boys' cloaks became leather blankets again, and the two settled down for a rest.

They spent half a week in their new shelter, enjoying the small slice of civilization, even as crude as it was. Fawkes brought them some form of large game twice, the skins and pelts kept for material while the meat and innards were eaten. Melting the snow over the fire was quite easy with the aid of magic, as magically conjured water never lasted long enough to sustain. Even Craster proved to not be so bad once the boys showed no interest in his wives or livestock.

He explained what he knew about the southern lands, especially those men who manned the wall. Men of the Night's Watch he called them, though according to Craster they had forgotten what it was they were meant to be watching for. He told them about the lords, ladies, and knights. His tales of dragons, direwolves, and gods were especially interesting to the boys who took his tales as truth with no reason to dismiss them. It was when he mentioned the White Walkers that the boys grew concerned, Tom especially due to his knowledge of Inferi.

Zombies raised by the gods to destroy man, and could only be killed by fire. Tom brought up stories of Dementors, Thestrals, and werewolves in turn. Harry greatly enjoyed learning about the different cultures and Magics, so much so he decided if given the chance he wasn't sure he'd be willing to go back to England. Not that it would happen anytime soon, considering Craster had never even heard of such a place.

Westeros was clearly larger than the map detailed, much larger than the United Kingdom even. It was due to this that Tom believed they were no longer in their world, or at least in their own time for that matter. Harry suspected Fawkes had something to do with it but was unwilling to put the bird in harm's way with his suspicion. No matter, Harry didn't really hold any attachment to England anyway.

Craster explained how the Night's Watch would be suspicious of them and that it would be better if they crossed an unmanned part of the wall, though he couldn't tell them what part that may be. Tom had Fawkes fly scout, searching for any weak parts to cross the wall. Harry focused more on his wandless magic, finally starting to make some real progress so long as he used the verbal incantations.

In the end, it was decided they would follow the river until they reached the Bay of Ice. Once there they would bypass an old tower and enter the land of The Gift with Fawkes's aid. They left the morn of the fifth day, plenty of animal skins to keep them both warm and luckily the storm had died down. It took them nearly a week to reach the Bay of Ice. Tom showed more mastery of Transfiguration by turning one of their skins into a tent which he then bewitched to repel water and trap in heat, while Fawkes began teaching Harry to hunt.

It was an interesting endeavor for the young boy for sure. He already knew how to skin, gut, and clean an animal thanks to Hagrid and Dudley's brief infatuation with hunting magazines. Killing the animals in question was a whole other ball game for the twelve-year-old, and Fawkes had the oddest teaching methods. The Phoenix wanted to teach Harry how to hunt by first teaching the boy how to meld their minds.

Apparently, Fawkes had made himself Harry's familiar (a fact that made Tom jealous, but he quickly got over it when he realized that meant the boy had practically stolen Dumbledore's familiar). Part of having a Magical creature as a familiar was learning to see through their eyes. Which was actually quite helpful in gathering scouting information for Tom.

Fawkes managed to fly the boys right over an unmanned part of the wall after Tom cast disillusionment charms over their bodies on the off chance someone could spot them. He flew them a fair way until the boys grew weary and he was forced to land. They ended up in the far south of The Gift where they managed to acquire a room for the night at a shepherd's farm.

Malachi was a kind old man, much nicer than the first resident of The Gift they managed to run into. Old women were scary. Regardless, Malachi put them up for the night in exchange that Tom help with repairs around the farm. Harry took his time off to put on some well-needed weight and practice his wandless magic. He had managed to even cast nonverbal spells so long as they were simple charms, which still impressed Tom. Harry's improvement caused Tom to strive to do the same for the off chance the wand was stolen from them or broken beyond repair. With Harry already having near mastery over all his first-year spells wandlessly it was not too difficult to catch the older boy up.

They spent nearly a month with old Malachi, and in that month his farm looked brand new and the boys continued their studies. Harry took to defense like a fish to water, he wasn't too shabby at Transfiguration or Charms either (though the higher-level ones required he use his wand). It was quickly revealed that Tom's strong suit fell in with the more complex and difficult Magics. He was able to perform everything that Harry could, but his spells didn't always hold the same level of power that the younger boys did. Tom was also a master of silent casting, which a few deer found to be quite deadly.

During their time on the farm Tom had retained his full form again, and his pale skin turned from paper white to a more even cream color. Harry's own complexion evened out, and he managed to put on nearly twenty pounds. His added weight meant he no longer appeared as a waif, and instead just a scrawny kid. The shadows surrounding both boys' eyes even lessened as they spent their days perfecting their Magic.

After their break, they sought it best to begin their travels again, this time going east until they reached what Malachi and their maps called the King's Road. Malachi was kind enough to gift them each a horse for helping repair his farm (he still wasn't quite sure how they managed it but he sure wasn't complaining) and even going so far as to teach them how to ride.

It was on the King's Road where they met their first Ranger. Benjen Stark was the First Ranger of the Night's Watch, which was apparently a big deal. He was tall and slim, black hair falling about his shoulders in a show of tangled curls, and he had piercing grey eyes. A fragment of a memory tried to niggle in the back of Harry's mind, but he could only make enough sense to remember the word 'Padfoot'. Figuring it a lost cause, the small wizard forced it to the back of his mind again.

The trio of brunettes (for Fawkes was off hunting and wouldn't be back for a while) met while the boys were setting up camp just a half mile up the bank from the Last River.

"What're you boys doin' round these parts? Where's your father?" Benjen played the part of a concerned adult well, and that only served to annoy Tom (though with his polite mask you'd never know it), which only Harry noticed. The boys hadn't put too much thought into their cover story, but Tom had mentioned before how the best lies were rooted in truth.

"They're dead." Harry made his voice as quiet as he could manage and huddled in on himself as he would when his uncle was mad. Tom's eyes widened slightly, which was the only sign he gave that he wasn't expecting Harry to react this way, but Harry remembered Stark was an important family from Craster's lessons. They almost rivaled the Malfoy or Blacks back in England.

"What happened, child?" Benjen knelt down to the small boy who looked younger than half his brother's kids. Tom noticed the paternal instinct and had to give the kid props. Deciding to play along, Tom made up his mind to sit back and only jump in if Harry painted too pathetic a picture.

"My mum and dad were murdered by a madman. He snuck into the castle and killed them with dark magic. My grandpa helped us escape, but he told us it wasn't safe anymore. He told us to run and not look back." Harry even let his shoulders shake and his eyes glaze over when he told his tale. Tom had to admit, the kid was good. The older boy noticed how the younger _conveniently_ left out any details of him other than the rescue. Benjen must've noticed it too because he turned to the boy who appeared ten and three. Both the boys could easily pass for his long-lost sons if it wasn't for their green eyes, each a different shade.

"I'm his older cousin. My mother died in childbirth and my father sent me to live with his family at a young age. He never had time for children, I was merely his heir." The revulsion Tom felt in painting himself a victim was almost enough to raise bile into the back of his throat. He quickly swallowed the urge to vomit and gave Harry a false look of concern, reaching for the smaller boy's shoulders.

"I see. How unfortunate." Benjen turned back to the smaller boy, who admittedly was more forthcoming. "How about you two join me for dinner, you must be hungry."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones

 **Warning!:** Living!Horcrux!Tom!, Smart!Harry!, Obviously AU!

 **Pairings:** _undecided at this time_

 **NON-Pairings (under no circumstance will these characters be a couple):** Tom x Harry, _others to be announced_

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Tongue of Snake**

Benjen bid the boys to pack up their tent and horses then follow him to a nearby Inn. He rented two rooms for the night, one for himself and the other for the boys to share. The three broke fast in the older man's quarters as Harry and Tom began to spin their tale.

Tom, or Marvolo as he introduced himself, was the son of a foreign lord. The man, Thomas Peverell, was well known in court circles for being cruel to both allies and enemies, which is why his son was sent to live with his younger brother. Harry's father, James Peverell, was named as the Lord's little brother, and the next to take the mantel until Tom (now Marvolo) turned seventeen. One of Lord Peverell's many enemies (because Peverell was Harry and Tom's common ancestry) had assassinated the family and they had no idea of any survivors. Harry, who Marvolo (Tom) introduced as Harek, also went out on a limb and explained the only reason their escape was successful was due to his grandpa's familiar.

It took a few minutes before Harek (Harry) figured out how to summon Fawkes through the bond that was created. Benjen was suitably startled, to say the least. His family was known in ancient times to bond with wolves and the Targaryions with dragons, but a flaming immortal bird was more than a bit ridiculous.

Once he got over his shock, Benjen recalled offering to take the boys to the Wall where they could become men of the Night's Watch. Needless to say, both boys refused. He didn't seem too surprised at this and made them a different offer instead. He offered to have his brother take them in as wards. Eddard Stark was a man of his word, a man who trusted family above all else. He would take in the boys if Benjen asked him too.

After much deliberation, the boys revealed their answer the next morning when Benjen brought them breakfast. Marvolo wanted to know more about the lands they had traveled to, and Harek wanted to learn to properly use a sword. The pair agreed it was best to move in with Benjen's lord brother. Oddly enough, Benjen was busy recruiting men for the wall and thus was able to take them to Winterfell in person.

The journey to Winterfell would take two and a half, nearly three, weeks if the group took the King's Road. After another day's rest, the quartet set out. Benjen entertained the boys with tales of his childhood, while Fawkes flew overhead, though the children seemed more interested to hear of the battles his family fought in. Perhaps it was the way the Stark's viewed family, or maybe their brutality in protecting those they loved, but Harek found a kinship growing the more Benjen spoke. Even Marvolo was reminded of the close-knit Slytherins from his time.

It was during their travels that Harek accidentally revealed his skill with magic (having not noticed the Ranger sneaking up behind him while he was magically repairing one of the skins). After several minutes of oddly worded prayers, Benjen finally decided to sit and listen to a proper explanation. Marvolo spun an enchanting tale of his family's rise to power and how magic was their key. By the end, Benjen was convinced it was magic haters who murdered the family and thus understood the boys' wish for secrecy.

"You're taking the existence of Magic rather well, Benjen." Marvolo (for he was glad to cast off his muggle father's name now that he had a proper chance) spoke with caution as the group remounted their horses. It had been another long day of travel, with them only stopping long enough to rest briefly and eat on the go. It was the boys' first hard ride, and even if they weren't going full speed they weren't properly resting themselves or their horses. According to Benjen there had had Wildling spotting in the area, which was reason enough to make haste and be cautious.

"Not so well as you think," the man gave a weary laugh before starting back off down the trail at a half trot. "I guess you could say the Wall teaches you to except things without much fight." He shouted that last bit as to be heard over the hammering of hooves.

The journey to Winterfell passed quickly with Benjen leading the way, he made sure they got just enough rest to keep them going, but never as much as they wanted. Marvolo began to think he wanted them as pathetic looking as possible when they arrived at the northern castle. With that thought in mind, he couldn't quite find it in himself to complain about the brutal pace, and Harek he found was not one to complain at all.

The ride was intense in its unpleasantness. Marvolo had bruises in places he didn't even know could bruise, Harek's body had become numb to the pain a few leagues back, and even Fawkes had grown weary from the long journey. A great relief filled the males when Winterfell finally came in sight. All tall dark structures made of stone and surrounded by high walls and evergreen trees. It vaguely resembled Hogwarts, though on a much smaller scale.

Fawkes flashed away, having been warned the humans might react unfavorably without a proper warning. Harek was sad to see his companion go, but there was a dull hum in the back of his mind now that represented the link the two had formed. If the boy so wished, he could easily tug on the link now and call Fawkes to return to his side. That alone gave the younger boy comfort as the trio of humans enter the outer walls of the northern fortress.

Benjen hollered something the boys couldn't understand, but they were too exhausted to understand their own thoughts so it wasn't really a surprise. A contingent of men in dark cloaks approached the trio, their leader held up his hand and offered it to Benjen.

"Welcome home, brother." The man was tall of stature, his shoulders broad, and his frame coiled with untapped power. His hair was the same dark brown nearly black color of Benjen's except instead of falling to his shoulders in a tangle of curls, it fell just below it in neatly kept waves. The same brilliantly bright grey eyes were set high in his handsome face, and a sense of command leaked from his stature.

"The Wall is home brother, but it is good to see you none the less," Benjen gave a bark of a laugh and swiftly dismounted his black stallion. The brothers swiftly embraced, and Marvolo watched the scene with cool olive green eyes. So this was Lord Stark. At least his jumbled and exhausted mind wasn't as far gone had he thought.

"Good to see you, brother. And who are these young lads? Much too young for the Wall that one is at least." Eddard Stark pointed to the small figure of Harek, perched stone still on his crème colored mare. Benjen gave a nod in the boys' direction.

"Aye, but let the lads rest. We shall discuss in the morn when we've all been fed." Eddard gave his brother a warm smile and lead him into the castle to the family wing.

"Marvolo! Harek! With us!" Benjen called over his shoulder as he began his trek across the yard, following his older brother. A man with a strange robe and shaved head approached the boys with caution.

"Follow me, lads, you'll be staying in the guest wing." Maester Luwin bade the boys to dismount, to which Marvolo quickly slid down the side of his grey mare. Harek didn't so much a twitch, which was odd for the younger boy.

"Harek! Get down!" Marvolo hissed and he stomped over to the younger boy. When he got close enough he recognized the soft rise and fall of the twelve-year-old's chest, even with Harek's eyes half-lidded as they were. "He's fallen asleep," Marvolo's words were barely a whisper, and yet there was no mistaking Luwin had heard him.

"I see, the hard ride must've exhausted the poor boy," Luwin plucked the boy off the top of the mare and handed him over to Marvolo. The fifteen-year-old had fully expected to struggle under the smaller boy's weight, but Harek was still far under tell weight he should've been at.

"He's always been the sickly type," Marvolo muttered as he made to follow the monk into the castle proper. He barely managed to pay attention to the route they took to the boys' shared room, so concerned with how light his companion was. Even for a few months of rough eating in the forest, there was no way Harek should've been that light.

The room in question was easily the size of a classroom, and the hard stone walls merely added to the homely appeal. There was an enormous fur-covered bed taking up the center of the room, easily big enough to fit five grown men comfortably. To one side was a large personal fireplace, already roaring with crimson and orange flames. A writing desk was pushed up against one wall with a stool, a wardrobe and face washing station on the opposite wall. There was no window and the whole room was decorated in various earthy shades, but Marvolo almost felt he had come home. If he closed his eyes he could easily imagine he was still in Hogwarts and this entire experience was nothing more than a bad dream, but when he opened them again he would still have a very weak Harek draped over his back.

"Thank you," Tom knew better than to insult a Lord's servants, and he wanted to get on Lord Stark's good side. If that meant showing some manners to common folk, he was sure he could manage.

"You're welcome, boy," Master Luwin turned down the furs on the bed and helped relieve Marvolo of his burden. "I'll retrieve you both for the breaking of fast come morn. Rest till then." Marvolo gave a quick nod to the monk before approaching the tiny figure of Harek.

"Wake up, brat," he murmured to the sickly figure before sighing. He couldn't believe he was allowing the boy's health to affect him like this, but he couldn't stop it. The child had been nothing but compassionate since waking in the northern cave and somehow had already managed to worm his way into the dark wizard's heart.

With a shake of his head, Marvolo allowed himself to inspect the wardrobe and found it severely lacking. All the cupboards were bare, but he supposed it made sense. These people were Muggles after all, and they had no way to prepare for their guests' arrival. After washing his face, Marvolo crawled under the furs next to Harek exhaustion quickly taking over his features. The teen didn't even notice when the child snuggled closer seeking warmth.

Both boys slept deeply and without dreams well into the night and the next morning. If it hadn't been for the overly chipper Maester Luwin waking them when he did, then Marvolo was sure they would've slept all the way to mid-afternoon. Marvolo wanted to be embarrassed to be found sleeping so closely with the other boy, but whenever he looked at the too small child he felt a fierceness fill his chest. For some unexplainable reason, he wanted to protect the boy that had so quickly become important to him.

Harek didn't seem to mind the sleeping arrangements, in fact, his only complaint was being awoken. He had been enjoying what was probably the best sleep in his entire life, and he was reluctant to roast himself from the warm furs.

"Worry not boys, Lord Stark had chosen some proper clothes for you from his sons' stock." Luwin ushered Marvolo over to the face washing basin, which had been refilled at some point while the boys were asleep. "Wash up and dress. The young lord Robert donated these for you, master Marvolo," the Maester thrust a bundle of brown and black clothes into the fifteen-year-old's hands.

Marvolo set the bundle on the edge of the bed and moved to the basin to begin washing his face as the monk turned to Harek. "Luckily young lord Robert kept his smaller years. He intended to gift them to Brandon, but he thought you had more urgent need of them." Luwin thrust a bundle of leather and brown clothes onto Harek's lap and motioned for the boy to get up. "I'll escort you to the hall for breaking of fast, I suggest you hurry."

Grumbling, Harek made his way over to the basin just as Marvolo finished washing his face and hands. The basin wasn't big enough to clean the rest of his body, and the monk was watching them so Marvolo was reluctant to use Magic to remove the rest of the grime.

Marvolo dressed in his new dark brown trousers and a black tunic that came down just to his knees. It was warm enough that he needn't keep his school robes on, but he couldn't transfigure their leather skins into a coat without a distraction.

"Um, I think I made need help," Harek held up the leather trousers at an odd angle. There were so many buckles he didn't know what to make of it. "I've never worn leather trousers before," Luwin sighed and help the boy into the almost too tight pants.

"And what, pray tell, do you normally wear?" Luwin grumbled.

"Normally cotton or wool, warmer that way," Harek finally managed to do up the last buckle, and his glance to the right told him Marvolo was finished fiddling with the wand. Luwin shook his head at the boy before turning to check on the half-grown man behind him.

"You always did get easily cold," Marvolo pretended to rummage through the leather satchel that held both boys' belongings, throwing one of the newly transfigured leather cloaks at Harek. The younger boy slipped it on and went to admire himself in the mirror.

Harek was still much too thin and small for a boy of twelve years, but he had healed a lot in his journey with Marvolo. His once paper-like skin had now darkened to pale cream with a healthy flush. The bags and circles that once marred underneath his eyes were now nonexistent, and Marvolo had even gone so far as to help heal Harek's eyes with Fawkes tears. His emerald eyes had begun to shine with a love of life once more. He was still short, but his weight had gone up and he no longer appeared half starved. The clothes fit him well and even gave wait to Marvolo's words. He looked like a young lord with a history of illness, and he supposed he was.

He wasn't t only one to have changed. Marvolo's complexion had evened from its paper-thin snow-white to the same color as Harek's. He had grown a few inches, making him a full head taller than the younger boy. The olive green shade of Marvolo's eyes had darkened into more of a jade color, nearly three shades lighter than his companion's. His shoulders had broadened just enough to be noticed, most likely from lugging around all those leather skins. His face had lost all baby fat, and his high cheeks and angular jaw had begun to show.

Both boys possessed midnight black hair, but Marvolo's fell into perfect curls about his head while Harek's appeared in a tangled mass of waves. As the two boys admired their appearance, Luwin could not help but admire their resemblance to Lord Eddard Stark and his younger brother Benjen. It made him wonder on the boys' story. If it weren't for their green eyes, which should've been grey, they could easily pass for the spitting images of Eddard and Benjen in their youth.

"You've grown taller! Not fair! I'm still so short!" Harek grinned at Marvolo to show he meant nothing by it. The older Peverell merely rolled his eyes at the young boy.

"Only way you'll grow is if we get some food into you," At this Marvolo turned his near-jade eyes onto the Maester.

"Yes, I suppose it's time to head to the Hall. Best not keep Lord Stark waiting," Luwin gave a short bow before leading the two boys through a maze of stone walls and dry courtyards. The trek was fairly short and once they arrived it was to a large crowd filling a room maybe half the size of Hogwarts' Great Hall. Benjen sat at the first table on his brother's right hand, and Lord Stark raised his cup to the pair. Luwin quickly ushered the boys to sit before Benjen and Lord Stark, but Marvolo quickly grew tense with his back facing an unnamed crowd.

"Welcome to Winterfell! Benjen has told me much about you," There was both deep concern and a twinkling amusement in Lord Stark's grey eyes when he spoke. Marvolo's gaze snapped to Benjen, who gave a soft nod in return. So the Lord of Winterfell knew of the boys' Magic.

"I'm afraid all he's told us about you are childhood adventures and war stories, Lord Stark," Harek graced the table with one of his softer smiles. Marvolo could practically see the hearts melting of those who saw it. Apparently, the boy's unique brand of Magic did not affect just him.

"I suppose we'll have to remedy that," Lord Stark gave a warm chuckle and motioned for the boys to eat. Marvolo eyed the spread with caution, but Harek merely gave a chipper smile and began to fill his plate. Only after the younger Peverell took a bite of one of his sausages did Marvolo begin to fill his own plate. Harek's portion was nearly half that of everyone else's, so whenever Marvolo saw the boy bite into something he enjoyed he would not so sneakily add more to the child's plate and give him a stern look. Harek was both highly amused and touched at the gesture. To him, it was confirmation that Marvolo was gradually growing to like him.

"Marvolo, Harek, I would like to introduce Lady Catelyn Stark, my wife," Lord Stark gestured to the stunning woman beside him. She reminded Harek of the Weasleys with her flaming red hair and cornflower blue eyes. Her fingers were long and thin, not unlike Marvolo's, and Harek imagined she could play beautiful music if she chose.

"An honor, Lady Stark," Lady Catelyn inclined her head just so. She too had been informed of the boys' past, and more than suspicious of why they'd wish to come to Winterfell. She seemed intent on ignoring it was Benjen's idea in the first place.

"My eldest son, Robert Stark though he prefers Robb," a boy of only thirteen sat on Benjen's right side. He had dark brown hair that turned fire-light red in the sun. His eyes were the same cornflower blue of his mother, though he had already begun to build quite a bit of muscle on him. His shoulders were already broader than Marvolo's, and Harek bet he was a bit taller too. The boy smiled warmly at them, any friend of his uncle Benjen was a friend of his.

"Our eldest daughter, Sansa," Lady Catelyn motioned towards the young girl beside her. Sansa appeared as a nine-year-old copy of her mother; her hair the same brilliant flames and her eyes the most dazzling blue flower. She was tall for a girl but not overly so, and her frame was very slender and lean. Marvolo imagined she would make a stunning woman one day.

"Welcome," Her voice was light and high, matching her smile perfectly. Harek felt a blush creeping up on his face and the older members at the table laughed at his expense.

"My second son Brandon, named after our ancestor Brandon the Builder. The first Brandon of House Stark was the one who commissioned the Wall." Robb and Lord Stark grinned when little Brandon ducked his head in embarrassment. The boy was no older than five, and already half of Harek's height (maybe even more). He too had warm auburn hair, though not as pronounced as his mother and sister. His eyes were the same cornflower blue as his older siblings, but his were alight with wonder and mischief. He was a thin and bony child who would probably easily be coherence into going on adventures with his older siblings.

"Bran! I'm Bran!" The little boy grinned at his family's guests, and Harek grinned back at his sheer excitement.

"Call me Harry," Harek and Bran shook hands mock formerly over the bacon, causing Lord Eddard and Benjen to laugh while Lady Catelyn just gave a small smile.

"Our youngest daughter, Arya," Lady Catelyn motioned towards a young girl of seven seated next to Sansa. Little Arya had a long face, like her father and uncle, but she still held a sharper beauty. Given a few years she could easily be considered beautiful but in the way that Amazon warrior queens were beautiful, not the soft glow of a lady that her sister and mother held. Her hair was a deep brown almost black color that hung about her face in a curtain of waves, and her eyes were the same steel grey as her father's.

"I'm afraid our youngest son, Rickon, is asleep with his nursemaid. He was feeling quite ill this morning," Lord Eddard gave a worried smile as he admitted this. "Little Rickon has just turned a year. Favors his mother," Marvolo could easily see the strain and worry when the father spoke of his ill boy. He'd have to consider that. Curing the youngest Stark of his ailment would easily put the Peverells in the Starks' favor.

"What ails the boy?" at Marvolo's question Lord and Lady Stark exchanged a meaningful glance that the Peverell boys couldn't decipher.

"His throat is swollen," Lady Catelyn began, "Just this morning he's lost his voice, and his breathing is getting louder," Her own voice choked on the last bit and water began to gather in her eyes.

"Does he cough?" Marvolo was nearly leaning across the table as he considered what the boy could have.

"Yes, it almost sounds like a dog barking when he does," Maester Luwin interrupted, more than curious of where the boy was going with this line of thought.

"Not a cold then, does it sound wet? Is he fevered?" Harek was catching on to Marvolo's idea, but he only knew potions up through second year and hadn't had much practice. If Marvolo thought he could cure the boy though, Harek had faith.

"Only in his throat, and it sounds more dry than wet." Luwin and Marvolo were seated next to eat other, the meal was long forgotten between introductions and news of the sick Stark.

"Not the flu then, do his beast bones stick out when he breathes in?" Marvolo had an idea of what he was dealing with, he merely needed confirmation.

"Yes!" Lady Catelyn's eyes were alight with a fighting spirit as hope seemed to shine through.

"He's got the Croup then, easily cured," Marvolo gave a proud grin at his deduction. The boy would be right as rain with the aid of a Pepper-Up potion, which was easily one of Marvolo's best.

"Are you sure?" Lord Stark's voice had gone soft.

"We'll have to send Fawkes for some ingredients, but it was one of the first brews our Professor taught us," Marvolo turned to Harek, who he knew had a mental link with the mystical avian

"What will we need?" Harek doubted Fawkes would be able to fetch what was needed, but judging by the offense his familiar took at the thought he agreed.

"Just a standard first-year potions kit, easily gotten off a student from the school," Harek relayed the instructions to Fawkes. His feathery companion warned he wouldn't be able to make a return trip after this little excursion for quite a while. Getting to England was easy. It was returning to Westeros that would inevitably cause a burning day, returning Fawkes into a chick.

"Fawkes said if he makes this trip he won't be able to make another for at least a year," Harek told Marvolo in a hushed voice so only Lord Eddard, Lady Catelyn, and Maester Luwin could overhear.

"Best just empty the Potions Closet then," Marvolo answered just as quietly. The adults exchanged a worried look, not wishing to put much faith in a strange bird. Still, per Benjen the phoenix was highly intelligent and capable of traveling many miles in the wink of an eye.

"He says he should be back by tomorrow afternoon," Harek grinned at the Lord and Lady Stark when he spoke that last bit. His faith in his familiar restored by the avian's faith in its own abilities.


End file.
